


The Sound of a World on Fire

by makebelieveanything



Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Post-Apocalypse, dystopia au, happy twinyards, mischievous twinyard shenanigans, sweet-fluffy-fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makebelieveanything/pseuds/makebelieveanything
Summary: Andrew stared absentmindedly out the twenty story high-rise sipping his morning coffee, watching the deserted streets below for any signs of life. As had been the case for years, ever since the world had basically imploded, the only movement in the faint early light was the drifting of debris through the blood-red sky - smoke and ash billowing in the distance as yet another building caught fire. The last raid had obliterated what was left of East City, and even three weeks after the attack the fires still raged intermittently.Dystopia/Post-Apocalypse AU with some sweet twinyard fun.
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815259
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41
Collections: AFTG Bingo Blackout 2020 - Cupcakes, All For The Game Bingo 2020





	The Sound of a World on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is really just some mischievous, sweet fun. It is not nearly as heavy as it sounds. Title is from the song World on Fire by Daughtry. 
> 
> Huge shoutout to my amazing beta [justadreamfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox) for all your help. 
> 
> Posted as part of the fluffy cupcakes attempt at blackout for AFTG Bingo.

Andrew stared absentmindedly out the twenty story high-rise sipping his morning coffee, watching the deserted streets below for any signs of life. As had been the case for years, ever since the world had basically imploded, the only movement in the faint early light was the drifting of debris through the blood-red sky - smoke and ash billowing in the distance as yet another building caught fire. The last raid had obliterated what was left of East City, and even three weeks after the attack the fires still raged intermittently.

They would probably have to go on another forage run in the next couple days, even risk the underground for some much needed materials - Aaron’s complaints about his lack of supplies having become so consistent that it warranted the extra danger. Considering the amount of damage incurred on the last raid, Andrew assumed any resistance left in East City was minimal at best. If he was right, that would hopefully allow them enough time to make a supply run before the rebels returned.

Thinking of his brother, Andrew turned from the window, poured another mug of coffee, and wandered down a couple flights to Aaron’s lab - kicking the door twice before entering to give his brother a warning of his arrival. Aaron, per usual, was hunched over a table enthralled in his work. The light of the makeshift lamp he had rigged to rotate 360 degrees around the table illuminated what appeared to Andrew as an unintelligible mass of gears, belts, valves, and miscellaneous wiring.

Andrew set the mug of hot coffee a good foot away from Aaron’s elbow, waiting patiently for his twin to look up from his project. Aaron glanced up eventually, masking the surprise in his eyes as he straightened, knocking a pair of needle nose pliers onto the floor in his haste. Aaron half-heartedly attempted to catch them, but eventually shrugged and reached for the coffee instead, taking a cautious sip. 

“What time is it?” Aaron asked. His lab was gloomy and windowless; a simple set of rooms that had been repurposed to create a large work area. He’d undoubtedly stayed up all night -  _ again _ \- mesmerized by his newest project. 

“Six,” Andrew responded, a half smile caught in the corner of his lip, his closest approximation to fondness. 

“Neil’s going to be awake any minute then,” Aaron reminded, leaning his hip against the work table as Andrew finished the dregs of his coffee. 

Andrew agreed with a hum, his gaze dragging to the ceiling as if he could see through four floors to the upstairs suites they had repurposed into bedrooms and the rambunctious red-head he’d left sleeping in his bed no more than 40 minutes ago. 

“He was leaving today, right?” Aaron asked, Andrew’s undemonstrative manner no longer a deterrent to Aaron’s curiosity after years of survival and camaraderie.

“Yes,” Andrew agreed eventually, “he said he had to go back to see if anyone was left alive - some sort of Martyr bullshit.” 

Aaron huffed in amusement, he knew Andrew’s affected anger originated from a place of fear. Andrew’s soft spot for their newest outcast was well known, and more due to the secret kisses and tender moments they’d shared - fingers linked together when they thought no one was looking - than it was out of any misplaced belief that he needed to protect Neil. 

Neil knew - they all knew - it was impossible anyone was left alive after the last bomb, but Neil had to be sure that his family was gone, that he was finally safe. Neil had been raised in one of the few remaining rebel strongholds - trained his entire life to kill anyone left in the post-apocalyptic, smouldering ember that was previously known as the United States. When a resistance group had finally garnered enough firepower to make a raid on the family’s stronghold, Neil had taken the chance it provided to run for his life. He’d struggled, and hid, and kept running, until he’d drifted right into Andrew and Aaron’s hideout and almost immediately been adopted into their group of misfits. 

Aaron was about to remind Andrew that Neil was only leaving to assuage his own guilt after he’d run from the attacks when the whirlwind himself pushed through the door in a rush of limbs and unfettered anger. 

“Andew, where the hell is my bike?” Neil demanded as he stomped over to the brothers. He was dressed in his typical ripped jeans, a tight black bomber jacket, and riding boots that laced part way up his calf - his messy, russet curls falling over themselves as he tilted his head in frustrated exasperation.

“What do you mean?” Andrew asked, impassive as ever, his one arm still resting on the table. 

“Come on, Andrew, really? You’re going to feign innocence with me? You were the only one who knew where I hid it. I know you don’t want me to go back, but I have to. What if someone survived?” Neil asked, his anger simmering under the fists he kept clenched at his side. “You don’t get to just control me by stealing my bike.” 

“I did not steal your bike, Neil,” Andrew responded, abandoning the table and crossing to stand in front of Neil. 

Andrew left his arms at his side, his posture open, inviting, implicative of the honesty he was conveying with his words.

“I did not steal your bike, and I did not tell anyone else to steal your bike. I want you to stay, yes, because you and I both know that no one could have survived that attack; you should not have survived that attack,” Andrew replied, reaching out and tangling his fingers in Neil’s jacket. 

“I did survive though, Andrew. I’m here, I’m alive, but I won’t be safe until I know they’re gone. I have to know they’re gone,” Neil begged, the anger seeping out of his bones as quickly as it had come. 

“No one is going to hurt you. Stay, you are safe here.”  _ With us, with me  _ \- went unsaid. 

“Fine. I guess I’ll stay,” Neil whispered, leaning forward to press a hesitant, ephemeral kiss to Andrew’s forehead before he wound his fingers through the hand Andrew still had locked in his jacket. “Breakfast?” he offered, tugging Andrew after him and back up the stairs.

“It’s not like I have a bike to leave on anyways. Damn that was a good bike, I wonder where it went, do you think we could go on raid for a new one... ” Neil rambled.

Andrew looked back once more before the door closed, his eyes catching again on the parts on Aaron’s table, then the curved chrome pieces he hadn’t noticed hiding under a workbench, a hint of a leather seat stacked in the dark corner, and he offered his twin a smile - an honest, authentic, smile. 

Aaron grinned back mischievously, knocking two fingers against his head in a mock salute before he turned back to the gears on his table and Andrew continued upstairs to help Neil scrounge up food for breakfast.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic feel free to comment, or hit me up on tumblr at [makebelieveanything](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/makebelieveanything)


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